The Son Becomes The Father
by Mr. Chaos
Summary: 6 short stories, looking at the aftermath of A Better World, and how a world, its people, and 6 former Justice Lords find redemption for their sins and maybe, just maybe, a bit of happiness along the way.
1. The Man that Rises

Many fics have been created concerning the Justice Lords. The idea of fascist superheroes seem to take hold of our imagination and inspire works.

But as I have looked over these stories, I have found people are too willing to make the Justice Lords evil. They make them out to be like the Joker or Lex Luthor, when they are anything but. They are heroes that lost their way, that used a more extreme way, and who paid the price. Are they evil? That is in the mind of the viewer. But for me, they are not truly evil…only misguided.

It was time to make a new Justice League Fic.

Just as 'The Greatest Story Finally Told" created what in my mind really happened after "The Greatest Story Never Told" and before "Dark Heart", "The Son Becomes the Father" looks at what I see as one of the possible conclusions to "A Better World".

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

The Man Who Rises

It had been 4 months. 4 months since he had chosen chaos over order. Disarray over control. Crime over peace.

Honor over fascism.

"They'd love it here…mom and dad…they would be so proud of you."

Those words still left him waking in the night, screaming. He hadn't had a true nightmare, the kind that make you wake up shivering even though you were sweating, sheets clinging to you and the night just a bit to dark. For a man that had become the night, such things were left to children.

And still, it had been 4 months since the nightmares began.

He had thought he had found the way to get rid of them after the first 3 days. He had seen the world he created and decided he could no longer be a symbol of it. He had burnt the Batsuit, destroyed the computer, poured gasoline on the batmoblie and watched it go up in flames. Never again would Batman oppress the innocent.

Then the crime started.

Citizens, like children kept inside for far too long, broke out onto the streets with the news that the League was gone. Chaos reigned, the streets of Gotham, made clean and safe at last, reverted into slums in a matter of hours. The police, use to doing as Superman demanded, were left wandering and dazed.

Yes, new heroes had come. It hadn't taken long for those in exile to appear, to begin work on cleaning up the world. In Metropolis, Superman was replaced by the mysterious Power Girl. Whispers in Central City told of a new Flash. Detroit was watched by a new Green Lantern, another John to posses the ring. In a shocking twist, two nobodies, Supernova and a new Blue Beetle, rose up and worked with the governments of the world to stem the tide of panic and destruction. A new group, the International League of Justice was formed with them as leaders, designed only to police…never to be in control.

In Gotham, the legend of the Bat was replaced by new heroes: Huntress and The Question now roomed the streets, dealing justice and protection the citizens. Yes, Gotham would not return to the grand state it had been 5 months ago, but it was better. Citizens cheered their new heroes.

The old ones were talked of like a passing memory. "Remember those Justice Lords? Thank God their gone."

Is that all he had become? A boogie man that only received cheers when he was gone? All he had done, all he had sacrificed…he had driven away friends, family…Dick, Barbara and Time had disappeared under assumed names, so well hidden he had never been able to find them. Never to let them know what he knew now.

Alfred…God, Alfred. He had been the first to talk against what Bruce had began, to try and reason with him. One day he'd had enough and, when Superman had come to see about the restructuring of Gotham's prison system, had pulled out the chunk of Kryptonite Bruce carried.

He could still hear the cry of pain Alfred had issued when the batarang had cleaved his hand from his wrist, sending it tumbling into the darkness. Could still see as the old man stared at him before taking the leap.

He had done all this to avenge his parents…and failed. And now, in a world that didn't need a Batman…he simply didn't know what to do.

&&&

(4 and a half weeks after the events of "A Better World")

The wind whipped about him, forcing him to pull the trench coat around him tighter. It was not a good night for being out, but he had been through much worse. Maybe it was the lack of a skintight costume that caused him to have the shivers.

'Maybe its because you spent 2 years locked in that cave and let the rest of them do the dirty work' Bruce thought.

He wasn't stupid enough to go out as Bruce Wayne at this time of night and in this place. No…he was stupid or suicidal. Instead, he sported the only other identity he still had; Matches Malone, petty thief. No one jeered at Matches, because no one noticed him. Just another grubby face in a sea of millions.

The problem with being a superhero for some long was that you got use to the hours. After living years on little sleep gotten only when he could, Bruce Wayne had discovered he simply couldn't lay down at 10 o'clock and get some shuteye. He would stare up, the words echoing in his head.

"_They'd love it here…mom and dad…they would be so proud of you."_

So, he'd taken up a new type of patrol, that as Matches, looking around for a bite to eat or a hooker to bed. Yes, he had found he craved interaction with anyone now. Forced to remove the face of Batman, he had found the quiet of the mansion nearly breath stealing. It was these little walks, the few hours he spent with some nameless body, that kept him sane.

BANG

Bruce turned, watching as a man ran out of an alley, a purse in one hand, a gun in another. He darted down the street, and Bruce, abandoned instincts flaring back to live, turned to go after him.

"Help!"

He paused, the cry for aid echoing. He licked his lips. The man was getting away, he needed to hurry. He could hurt more people, kill more people. That was the problem with the world, no one was willing to stop a petty thief until they killed some kids pare…

"Help!"

The little voice rang out again, and Bruce turned back. His mind screamed at him to ignore the call, let the police handle it. His body itched to return to what he knew, the only thing he knew.

But his heart was what made him turn back.

&&&

It was a bad dream…it had to be…there was no way his life was this cruel, as to make him witness this again.

A young boy, crouched next to his mother and father, sobbing and begging for help. The parents lay still on the group, blood oozing from the bullet wounds that marred their flesh.

"Please…"

Bruce shook his head, startled. He had been lost in thought, focused on the terrible sight, the dark reminder of his own descent.

He took a breath, stealing his nerves. "The man who did this, I'll…"

"My mom…I think she's still breath…please…"

Bruce looked down, shocked as he noticed the slight rise and fall from the mother's chest. Reaching out towards the father, daring not to hope, Bruce felt his mind go numb at the sensation of the pulse, weak but there.

There were alive…there was still time.

"Please…don't let them die." The boy whispered through his sobs.

Bruce turned to him, offering him a kind smile. Matches was gone, though only in spirit, not in form. In his place wasn't Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire. Nor was it Batman, the Dark Knight.

It was Bruce Wayne, the man who had bandaged more wounds then he could remember.

"Begin ripping this up." He said, throwing off his coat. "We need to stop the bleeding…" He snatched some of the scraps from the boy, then pointed to the end of the alley. "Keep crying for help, I'll stay with them…trust me, I will do everything I can to keep them safe."

The young boy nodded, scrambling to his feet and dashing out, crying out for anyone to come. Bruce ignored the sounds, focused only on the chest wounds. He dared not look at either of them as he shifted from body to body, in fear that the faces would change to ones he knew all to well…ones whom he shared features with.

He worked hard, always checking their pulses and making sure they were breathing fine. The blood coated his hands, but he didn't care as he probed one wound, nearly crying out when he found the bullet shallow to the surface in the woman, pulling it free and focusing on the man.

Bruce didn't know when the paramedics came, all he knew was one moment he was pressing down on the father's chest, the next he was yanked away, trained staff taking over while one of the paramedics pulled him towards the ambulance. He answered their questions as best he could, nodding in the right places and shaking no when he had too. Soon, the boy and his parents were loaded into the ambulance, ready to go to the hospital.

"Sir?" A police officer said.

"Yea?" Bruce asked, still in a daze.

The policeman gave him a knowing smile. "You did good…they'll survive, thanks to you. Would have bled out by the time we got here. You're a hero."

Hero? He was a hero? Without the mask, without the cape…he was a hero?

&&&

Sitting in the darkened sitting room, Bruce Wayne was lost in thought. He had let a criminal go, let him get away with his ill gotten gain, to go out and terrorize the world another day.

He'd also saved the lives of two people. Been thanked by the police and paramedics, hailed a hero…and insured that at least one child would never lose their parents to some punk with a gun.

The light from the half full moon shone down, illuminating parts of the room. Bruce looked around at everything, eyes seeing everything and nothing…until they came to rest of a portrait of his mother and father.

"Thomas Wayne…loving husband, father, friend…doctor." That was what Alfred had said at the funeral. "There was never a man he would suffer, as long as he had the power to have any say. He gave himself to aiding his fellow man when they were at his weakness. But we should shed no more tears, and mourn he whose time has come. No, let us rejoice for what he gave…and that his legacy may live on in his precious son."

In that moment, Bruce Wayne smiled. Not a mocking smile, not a fake one…not even one out of love or interest or friendship. No, a smile born out of pure and simple happiness.

He had found the way to avenge his parents…and find his redemption.

&&&

It should have taken him 8 years. Even with his previous college credits, those that still carried over even after the years he had gone, even with the well placed cash to move him through the system, it should have taken him 8 years.

Gotham University had never met Bruce Wayne when he set his mind on something.

He graduated with a bachelor's in a year and a half. 40 credit hours, unthinkable for any other student, were child's play for him. He had worked harder on far more strenuous projects. And those deadlines meant so much more then the fictional one he had set up for himself.

Graduate school had taken 2 years, and a few million dollars to convince them to let him work at his own pace. The professors, at first believing he was insane or merely a bored rich man, quickly came to see him as a dedicated student, and gave whatever aid they could give to the man on his mission.

Almost 4 years after he had given up being Batman, Bruce Wayne took on another identity: Doctor Bruce Wayne.

The school had begged him to stay, to come on as a teacher. Told him they had never seen a student so passionate, they could only imagine what he was like as a professor. The same had been said by the hospitals, desperate to fill their coffers by promoting their hospital as the one where BRUCE WAYNE practiced.

He'd turned them all down.

"I have a better place to work in mind."

&&&

"I need a new bag of morphine for Mrs. Smith." 

"Right away Dr. Wayne."

"Selina, I asked you to call me Bruce."

"Right away Dr. Bruce."

Rolling his eyes at the former villainous-turned-hero-turned-medical nurse, Bruce moved away from the intercom and over to the large bed. What once had been a guest room in Wayne Manor was now what almost every room in the Manor had become: A hospital room.

It had taken $10,000,000 to bring his family mansion up to code, and several months of labor. But when it was done, the Thomas and Martha Wayne Free Hospital had finally been opened to the public. Offering help directly to the poorest of Gotham's families, here Bruce was able to treat those people that truly needed help. In the beginning, it had been rough. He had been by himself, juggling hundreds of patients, with no nurses, few supplies, and little on the job training.

But he had made it work, somehow he had. And in the end, things had turned around. New doctors, sharing his same goal to help those in need, joined with him. The rich of Gotham began to give him money, which he used to improve the hospital every day. 6 months ago Selina Kyle had appeared on his doorstep, a nurses diploma in hand.

"Its always you and me Bruce…you'd best get use to it."

Now, he ran a staff of 30, managing 200 patients a week. The work was tiring, backbreaking, and emotionally charged. But every time he managed to bring a child back from the brink of death, every time he could save the life of an innocent person down on hard times, he knew it was worth it.

"Bruce…" Selina said through the intercom. "Come down stairs…you need to see this."

Giving Mrs. Smith a friendly pat on the shoulder (Yes, Bruce Wayne had learned of friendship, of human kindness. Those few who knew of his double life were still shocked by his transformation from cold hearted crime fighter to caring doctor) before heading down stairs, wondering what Selina could want…

"Hi Bruce."

Bruce Wayne froze, dropping the file he held.

"We were wondering…" Dick Grayson said, arm wrapped around his wife Barbara, Tim standing next to them. "if you had any openings for nurses?"

He had once been a boy, a boy that fell, and had kept falling. Then he'd been the man that fell, then the bat. Now he was the man once more, rising up, and bringing that boy out of the shadows.

Bruce Wayne finally spoke. "You know I can't say no to stupid kids that are going to help even if I don't want them too." Walking towards them, he shook hands with his lost family, before showing them to their rooms, still preserved from when they had left.

Somewhere, beyond the stars, Martha, Thomas and Alfred smiled.

Author's Note: Yes, the next fic after this one will be The International League of Justice, telling of how the 7 new heroes mentioned here appeared, and how they create the team that will regain the public's trust.


	2. Wally

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

Wally

'God…this place is a mess.'

John Stewart looked around apartment, emotions flooding through him. Anger, sadness, regret, longing, guilt, rage, fear, and just a hint of joy. He always felt a touch of joy here…just a bit. It was here that he could feel the ghost of his friend the strongest, standing just out of sight.

The others thought he was crazy. Not at first, at first they simply agreed, said they felt the young man named Wally West too. That it was natural. It was…they had all felt it when Superman had supposedly died at the hands of Toyman. The feeling that the departed was an angel on your shoulder, guiding you and comforting you.

But as the months had gone by, and the others turned to establishing their new order, still John Stewart felt the ghost of his friend, Wally's spirit drifting around him. Sometimes he was soft and gentle, like a breeze. But as time wore on, he became harsh, angry. As they lost their way, as they turned into the types of heroes Wally could never agree with, the feeling that his friend was yelling at him, begging him to stop was always there.

Diana had suggested they do an intervention. J'onn said it was all in his head. Batman wanted John kicked out. No room in the Justice Lords for someone loosing their nerve and hearing voices. Not that it was voices…but at times John worried that would be next.

So, he had done what he needed to do to carry on, to do what he felt was the only way to honor Wally. To create a world where no young man would be killed by a fascist.

He had ignored the feeling.

The first time he had been forced to kill, it felt like a knife had been shoved into his brain. Later, he would whisper to Shayera that he swore he saw a flash of red, crumpled on the ground as his ring sliced Copperhead in two. A flash that seemed to protect the villain. Shayera said it was shock.

Why then had it felt so real?

He had ignored the sensations, and soon, they had left him, making it easier to fall down farther, fall down deeper into the darkness. Thoughts of making the world a better place for the Wally of the world turned into him hunting down those like Wally, forcing them to conform or be punished. It wasn't just that the world was a dangerous place, it was that these people were letting themselves be put in danger! They were so stupid…so foolish…

Now, as he stood in the messy apartment, dust covering everything in sight, John Stewart shook his head.

'I am the stupid one…I was the fool.'

&&&

As he poured himself a bowl of cereal, John couldn't help but stare at his hand, and his bare ring finger. His brown eyes closed, his skin throbbing, longing for the return of his strength, his power, his ring.

It had taken only 3 hours after their return from that terrible trip to the other realm for them to come. The Guardians had found the League sitting in the middle of Bruce's house, where the Dark Knight was raging against them. Seems Superman had decided that it was ok to kill the other Wally, because he was in his way. Because his pride was hurt. Batman had gone ballistic on all of them, especially after Diana questioned what the big deal was. Without their powers, Diana and Clark had found themselves being assaulted both verbally and physically.

If had been untied, John would have helped.

Mid rant, the Guardians had appeared, along with most of the Green Lantern Corp. John held no thoughts that they were there to help him get a new ring. No, they were ready to have him killed for his actions on Earth, for his failure.

In the end, he had been lucky. Kilawog, later telling John he had only done it because John was Wally's friend, said that they should allow the next Green Lantern for Earth decide his fate. Sending out the ring, it had only take 10 minutes for the new Lantern to appear. Another African American. Another John.

John Henry Irons, aka Steel.

The man without powers, who fought with just his brains and inventions, had been named the next Green Lantern. His costume had been an odd choice, a green version of his old Steel armor, complete with a glowing hammer that was shaped like a lantern. But the Guardians had been pleased, and offered him to make the decision.

John Irons had spoken quickly. He had condemned John Stewart to remain on Earth forever, and then demanded that the same punishment be given to the rest of the League. J'onn would be sent to Mars, Shayera back to Thanagar, the rest to their own homes. And none of them would be allowed to communicate with another…again.

That had hurt the worse.

Before he had left the mansion, before he had entered the world to be all alone for the first time in decades, he had requested one thing from Bruce. The Dark Knight had seemed slightly amused by his request, but granted it. He understood how hard it would be for John Stewart to be out in the real world. A new identity was needed.

Shaking himself from his musings, John quickly ate his cereal and then grabbed his coat. Snatching his ID badge, emblazoned with his new name, he pinned it on and headed out the door.

'Walter Barry West' had to get to work.

&&&

He didn't know what had possessed him to do any of this. Maybe it was his conscious, trying to make up for his sins against his friend. Maybe it was him leaching onto the one last pure thing in his life.

Maybe there really was a ghost.

Whatever the case may be, after he had requested that Bruce create the man known as Walter Barry West, he had travels, hitchhiking across the country, watching as the world was torn down then rebuilt. He saw the new lantern clean up his hometown of Detroit in mere days, rallying the citizens and driving out the corrupt. He heard of Superman's replacement, Power Girl, who worked with the government to insure everyone that she would never become like the Kryptonian. She became an official member of the police department, under the watchful eye of Jim Gordon, former Gotham police commissioner, now in charge of Metropolis. The mysterious Supernova, along with the new Blue Beetle, rapidly began to find lost heroes and work with them to establish a new, better order. The Question and Huntress went public, making it clear that they were different from the heroes of the past.

His travels brought him to Central City, the home of his friend, and he was saddened to see what had happened to it. When Wally had died, none of them had been able to stand being in the city, and thus left it alone. Now, he could see the damage. The city looked almost as bad as Gotham in its darkest days. The streets were deserted, buildings crumbling, dirty and litter covered alleys all around. John had broken down in tears when he saw the ruins of the memorial to The Flash, the statue broken into chunks, the loving stone scratched out and a new message written: "ALL YOUR FAULT!"

His need for a place to sleep had brought him to Wally's apartment. The landlady had been amused by the similar names, saying she should remain it the "Wally West Suite". John had nodded, agreed with that, and then settled in, spending the last of his cash on the first rent check.

His need for a job had sent him pounding the pavement, and right into another ironic twist. The crime wave that had hit Central City meant that the police department had expanded, and while John was not qualified to carry a badge or even answer phones, he could push a broom.

It took him 3 days to realize that he had taken Wally's old job.

As he currently worked on cleaning up one of the labs, his mind went back to Wally West. After that horrible trip to the other world, he had tried to reach out to his friend, praying that he hadn't been crazy, and that his old friend was truly trying to to reach out to him.

No luck.

No voice, no feeling…nothing.

'Is that so?'

John whipped around, startled out of his thoughts, his janitor's hand falling from his bald head as he twisted about. 'There is no way…no way…'

'No way, what, GL? That you can hear me? Geez, been trying so hard to contact me…'

'Wally?"

'Maybe.'

John frowned. 'What do you mean, maybe?'

'Maybe I am Wally. Or maybe I am just your conscious trying to get through to you, and this is the last resort!' The voice said in frustration. 'God, you are so think sometimes GL.'

'Don't call me that…I'm not a Green Lantern anymore.'

'I noticed. The lack of green eyes, no power...sucks, don't it.' Wally's voice, be it real or just in John's head, continued. 'So, what's your next step?'

"Next step?' John questioned.

'Don't tell me your that brainless….geez…' The voice groaned. 'Think about this: You've taken the name Wally. You've taken Wally's apartment, his job, maybe even his insanity, considering this conversation.'

John shook his head, leaning on his broom. 'Maybe I have lost it…and considering you're in my head, you just heard that, didn't you?'

'Yup' The voice said, popping the 'p'. 'But really, I don't need to spell out for you what needs to happen next, do I GL?'

'I told you not to call me GL. I'm not a Green Lantern…I'm not a hero.'

'You're right, you aren't a Green Lantern. But you can be a hero again.'

With that, the voice went silent, with as John tried to get it to speak, to open up and let him know what he was suppose to do.

'What do you want, Wally? What is the next step?' He closed his eyes, trying to think logically. 'Wally is dead, gone. You've taken over his life, his name, his job, his home. You live in the same city, which has gone to hell because there are no more Justice Lords, and even when there were Justice Lords, we couldn't bring ourselves to come here because his was Wally's home and the only one who protect it was…'

John's eyes snapped open, coming to rest on the different containers that sat on the shelf near him. His mind whirled as he remembers Batman's autopsy of Flash.

'_This powers are what interest me most.'_

_John frowned. 'He's our friend, not a guinea pig. Stop experimenting on him and just let us bury him.'_

'_Understand how he gained his power can help us insure no criminal is able to do the same. Do you want to dishonor Flash by letting some punk take his name and powers and use them to commit crimes?'_

'…_no.'_

'_It seems his powers were created when highy unstable chemicals came in contact with his skin, probably…'_

"During some freak accident." John whispered.

&&&

**4 days later**

"Hurry up! Put it all in there!" The robber grinned as the teller shoved the money into the grocery sack. "Come on, come on…yea, that's it." He turned to his partner. "What I tell you, no one with a cape steps foot in Central City, makes it the perfect fishing grounds. Our own private money tree!"

"Got that right!" The other man said with a laugh. "Think we should do this tomorrow?"

"You know it!" The other man said, grinning like mad.

"There won't be a tomorrow for you monkeys." A voice called out. Turned their guns towards its direction, they found…nothing. "Haven't you guys heard yet?" The whipped up, towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, again finding nothing. "Central City does have a hero. His name is The Flash."

One of the robbery rolled his eyes. "The Flash is dead." He felt a tap on his shoulder, and spun around, coming face to face with the intruder. Dressed in a tight red suit, yellow lightning bolts adorning it, the only piece of dark skin that could be seen was where the man's mouth was.

"Boo." He said, punching the robber. Before the other one could come at him, the speedster raced away, then back, striking into him and his stumbling partner 50 times in 30 seconds. The two of them wobbled on their feet as the hero grinned, holding out his hand and flicking them each in the forehead, sending them down to the ground. "Well, that was easier then I expect."

The patrons of the bank stared for a moment before bursting into cheers and catcalls, fisting pumping into the air as the swarmed the man in scarlet.

"Who are you?" One man asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" The man once known as John Stewart asked. "I'm The Flash. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have crime to foil!"

Rocketing out of the bank, John raced through the streets of Central City, nabbing 2 purse snatchers and rescuing a kitten in a tree in 3 minutes flat. Letting out a whoop of joy, Stewart took off in a dead run.

'Your city will never go unprotected again, Wally.' He thought as he raced down main street. 'No one will ever forget The Flash...and I will never let your sacrifice go in vain again. I promise you…I will never forget again.' Glancing to his right, he wasn't surprised to see another figure in red racing with him.

"Thank you, John." Wally West whispered, before shooting past him, joining with the spirits of all the speedsters to come before him, fading from sight. The Ghost of Wally West could finally rest.

"No…thank you."


	3. A Different Point of View

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

A Different Point of View

The scars still itched her.

She would move her shoulders a certain way, the muscles shifting, and she would get that unbearable feeling that bugs were wiggling under her skin, trying to escape. The only way to relieve herself was the roughly itch, fingernails digging into her back. Of course, after she was done, she would end up with a back full of bloody cuts.

But she would take the cuts any day. Blood meant that she was alive. Meant there was a chance she could escape this hell that was her life.

It had all started when the Thanagarians had invaded Earth, hoping to destroy it and bring an end to their war with the Gordanians. She had helped them, given them everything they needed to take down the Justice Lords. It should have worked perfectly, though knowing what she knew about their plan now, she was glad it had failed.

Thanks to Luthor.

Lex Luthor was not a man to like being without control. After a Thanagarian Commander had taken over parts of LexCorp, Luthor, from prison, had arranged for a little surprise. Revenge for daring to touch what he still considered his. How he had managed to hack into the Thanagarians' mainframe, she still didn't know. But whatever the case may be, he found all the information he needed and promptly broadcasted it all over the world. 

The Lords had acted quickly…destroying the fleet, with Superman punching a hole in the flagship and letting Shayera's people know that if they arrived again, they would meet with even more resistance.

When Commander Hol had tried to reveal the truth about her, she had smashed him with her mace and told him to take his 'lies' elsewhere.

Through his actions, Lex had been given a pardon. A pardon that, whenever Shayera thought about a young man with shaggy red hair and a winning smile…made her wish she had never come to Earth.

Wally was dead because of her.

Oh, the others had told her that it wasn't her fault. That they should have done something about Luthor in the first place, that he should have been dealt with years ago. Superman blamed himself a lot, and made it clear that it was his fault, and his fault alone. Several times, John had almost said that it was Wally's own fault, but had shut his mouth just in time. With Superman letting them go all out, she had no doubt that the Lords wouldn't have blinked if she bashed his brains in for insulting Wally.

But still, she never forgot that if it weren't for her people, her mission to bring them to Earth, Lex Luthor would have remained in jail. He'd never have become a man of the people, the hero of the Thanagarian Invasion, and President.

He never would have killed The Flash.

&&&

When the Guardians had been getting ready to take each Lord to their respective city, with strict regards that they never dare try to contact another one of their fellow former heroes, Shayera had been the second to last. Only she and J'onn had remained, the Guardians ready to take her offworld.

Or, so she had thought.

Flying over the Heartland of America, the Guardians had paused and lowered down near a field, and shoved Shayera out of the green bubble. When she had asked them what they were doing, they had replied that they could no risk her going back to Thanagar and getting their army to invade Earth to take back control. She would stay on Earth.

She had argued with them that her people would never invade…they were most likely to kill her for failing in her mission. The Guardians would hear none of that, then turned to Guy Gardner and told him to "do it".

Shayera should have known it was coming. It made sense really; they'd taken John's ring, even though it would most likely never work again, and they'd also secured Diana's armor.

Yet, she'd still screamed when Guy's ring tore through her wings, cleaving them from her back in a rain of blood and feathers. Shayera, the great warrior, who had suffered through broken ribs and shattered arms with barely a whimper, cried like a baby as the guardians had Guy dig deep, scarring her back and sealing the skin, so that the wings could never be reattached.

"A mark for your wicked crime of corrupting John Stewart."

That was what had hurt the most. They didn't do it to punish her for her crimes on Earth, for the people she had killed…

They did it because John had gone bad. She was little more then an agent that drew John to the darkside…worth nothing more then that.

She'd cried hours after they had left.

&&&

"You're her, aren't you?"

Shayera looked up from the meager meal she had managed to gather from alley's dumpster. It had been only a few weeks since she had taken to the streets, living off the crumbs of the people that had once looked up to her. Now, they looked down at Hawkgirl, cheering her disappearance, while ignoring Shayera, the rat that was happy when she found a piece of stale bread crust.

Turning towards the young man, she had the strangest sense of Déjà vu. His voice was hard and cold, and his face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl. But there was something about the African American boy she could not place…something that tickled the back of her brain.

"I thought you were her…without the helmet and the wings…" That got Shayera's attention. His young man knew her…knew of her past. She quickly stood up, ready to fight her way out of the alley.

'Knew I couldn't stay forever.' She thought. 'Stupid to hope I would be able to disguise myself…'

The man gave her a dark grin. "You do remember me, don't you? What you did to me?"

"I hurt a lot of people, kid." Shayera said. "Refresh my memory."

The young man nodded. "Ok." He held out his hand, and Shayera screamed as the blast of electrical energy hit her, making her body twitch and skin burn. She could feel the scars stretching opening up and oozing pus and blood on the tattered remains of her shirt. The man twitched his finger, and she was pulled towards him, his eyes dark and menacing. "After everything I did for you…I look up to you all, every one of you! I thought maybe one day you would accept me as a fellow hero. Then you came to my home, publicly revealed my identity, and beat me down for daring to fight crime without your permission! Kidnapping Richie, forcing him to make weapons for you!" He sneered. "I was a fool for ever believing in you."

Shayera gasped. "V-Virgil?"

Virgil Hawkins, aka Static, nodded. "Night night."

Shayera never saw the punch coming.

&&&

Splash!

Shayera coughed, water dripping from her hair. Shaking her head from side to side, she blinked, focusing in on the image of Virgil standing above her, a bucket in his hands. She moved towards him, only to be jerked back into the wall, the chains Virgil had restrained her with holding tight.

"So it is true…your powers are gone." He raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I would have thought you'd keep the wings, at least."

Shayera looked down, her tone bitter. "Thank the Green Lanterns for that."

Virgil nodded. "oh, I will." He moved off to the side, and Shayera realized that she was in some home's basement. The windows and doors had been barricaded, and most of the furniture had been cleared away, pushed to the sides to allow them with a wide open space. She also took a moment to examine Virgil. He was a far cry for the skinny, wise cracking young hero she had met, years ago. He was taller now, toned and muscular. His hair had been cut, the dreads gone and now sporting a crew cut. His face was weathered, as if age had come to him way too soon. Truthfully, even though she knew he was only a year or two from twenty, he looked thirty.

"What happened to you Virgil?" Shayera whispered.

"You." He whispered. "You happened." He turned on her. "Superman and the rest of you didn't really plan ahead, did you? Just came here, decided to make an example of me. I wouldn't come to heel, so you decided to just blab my secret to the world. Filmed it for everyone." He pulled off his tight black shirt, revealing a mass of horrific scars. He ran his hand along the flesh, speaking softly. "This is where Superman used his heat vision…where your boyfriend sliced me with his ring…oh, and this is good, this is where you smashed me with your mace. Still can't lay on my side after that little gem."

Shayera was trembling as she looked at the injuries on the young man, the hero that had helped them against Brainiac years ago. "You…you wouldn't stop…you were going to get yourself killed…"

"HA!" Virgil laughed. "I was going to get myself killed, so your answer was to beat me!"

"It got you to stop fighting villains, didn't it?" She snapped, but the way Virgil tensed, she felt something dark creep into the pit of her stomach. "Didn't it?"

Vigil laughed, running a hand along his bicep. "Why did Batman hide his identity?" His voice cracked. "You all claimed you would handle the villains…deal with the bang babies. And you did…eventually. After you cleaned up your own rogue's gallery." His eyes shimmered with tears. "Left me though a year to deal with them…"

It all came crashing down for Shayera at that moment. "They knew who you were…where you lived…"

"Finally figured it out?" Virgil asked bitterly. "This ain't my house. My house is gone…Hot Streak burnt it down. That's how my sister dead. My dad was gutted by a fish. And don't get me started about any of the few friends I still had." He shook his head, pulling his shirt back on. "Couldn't even fight back, because I knew if I did, you people would be back and finish the job you started. You left me to die…because you couldn't stand the competition, could you?"

The woman once known as Hawkgirl lowered her head. "We didn't mean for it to go this far…"

"The path to Hell is paved with good intentions. My mom taught me that." Virgil said. "Sing me another one." 

"…are you going to kill me?" Shayera whispered.

Virgil shook his head. "That would be to good for you." He picked up a lead pipe and threw it at her, Shayera reaching out and catching it. Virgil picked up one of his own. "I lost my family because I wasn't strong enough to stand up to you Lords…that isn't going to happen again. Static is going to return, but he needs to be trained, learn how to fight without his powers. Who better to teach me then a murderer?"

Shayera shook her head, eyes defiant. "I won't hit you…I can't. I have no powers."

"But you still have the skills. Your boyfriend, Superman, even Wonder Woman need powers to fight. But you have training…you're a soldier. A great Thanagarian. You still have the knowledge, and I plan to use it."

The red head frowned. "I'm not the right person for this…I can't fight…I don't have my wings…if you want revenge, if you want to beat me then just do it, but I can't help you. Get Batman…" she grimaced at that name. "He's the one that betrayed the Lords…got our powers taken away. He's had more training then anyone…your even preaching his little song about revenge. You should go to Gotham…"

The pipe lashed out, and Shayera grunted as it slammed into her rips, the bones cracking. Virgil twirled the weapon as he leaned down.

"I did call him…who do you think suggested I kidnap you?"

&&&

In the week that she had spent in the basement, Shayera came to several conclusions.

First, if she ever managed to find Clark again, she would drag him to Dakota and show him what his great 'Scare the Young Heroes Straight' program had done. Of course, that's assuming she didn't beat his brains in for imprisoning the other world's Flash and then trying to kill him later on.

Second, she knew beyond a doubt that Virgil needed mental help. The mass of scars had frightened her, but his paranoia at every sound showed her that the Lords actions had really done a number on him.

Third, Virgil was going to get himself killed. On the third day, he had finally gotten her to train with him, promising not to use his powers. Shayera had hoped that maybe, if she hit him in the head a few times, he would either realize how stupid this was and let her go, or go into a fit of rage and kill her, ending the torment she felt.

Instead, he had merely kept coming at her, demanding she teach him what he was doing wrong. So, the dance would begin again, and even chained, Shayera would be able to take him out. Virgil was right; he needed to be trained, or he would be killed in a few months.

And thus the lessons began.

&&&

She wasn't sure when they had reached the agreement. They didn't speak of it, that was for sure. A silent agreement, of understanding, passed between them. All she knew is that slowly, Virgil would not snip at her as much. He would stay down, talking to her. At first, it was about the Lords and how would go about defeating them, and about how horrible of a person she was. But, as the months wore on, and Virgil became stronger, the conversation would turn to other things, of the world she had not seen since he'd taken her, of his making a new costume, debates about his name.

Virgil was a fast learner, and for the first time in years, Shayera felt the trickles of pride in her student. Yes, student. They had accepted that after a month's time, though Virgil had said it sarcastically, with a mock salute and a "goodbye teach". But still, that understanding was there.

They reached an understanding, that while they may have had a dark past together, they needed each other now.

She was still surprised the day he removed the chains.

"Not like your gonna fly away." He had snarked, before throwing her the wooden sword (yes, she'd finally gotten him to switch to something that did less damage). "Besides, need to learn how to deal with a moving opponent.

As the weeks went by, and Static made his return to the skies of Dakota, Shayera had waiting nervously for him to return, pestering him with questions when he finally come back. He'd handled her for a few days, then in frustration told her to knock it off. Maybe it was the wounded look she gave him before she turned away, telling him that she could care less if he died, but the next day he had given her a walkie talkie and made it clear she was not to bug him when he was on the job. That lasted 10 minutes, when, hearing him having problems, she had begun to give him instructions. Lessons long learned in the field of leading troops came back to her, and Shayera was able to tell Virgil exactly what to do to save his life.

That was the day when they stopped being enemies and became partners.

&&&

"I know why he told me to kidnap you."

Shayera looked up from her meal, giving Virgil a critical eye as he mended his costume. They still stayed in Richie's basement, but had managed to repair it, make it a bit easier to life in. No TV, but plenty of books, a refrigerator, microwave, and a working toilet (something Shayera was eternally grateful for). Virgil, though having a room upstairs, spent almost all his time down with her, and recently begun sharing with her the queen size mattress he'd long ago given her to use as a bed. Of course, he'd told her to get no ideas, as he wasn't into bestiality. Shayera had laughed at that, especially considering how he cuddled up to her when he slept.

"What?" She asked, brushing back a strand of hair.

"Batman. I understand now why he said I should kidnap you."

Shayera raised an eyebrow. "Why is that? Because you needed me?"

"Nah…I think he figured you needed me." Virgil cut her off before she could argue. "Think about it; you lost everything. No home, no friends, no powers, no wings. You had nothing to live for, and no way to make up for your sins. Batman must have figured that you would never survive if you didn't find a way to make up for your sins." He paused from his work. "You act tough, but you have a good heart."

"No need to insult me." She muttered.

"You needed something, someone, that could turn out good. Something that you could point to and say, "I did that…and it was positive.". Batman knew you needed to make amends, and knew I needed revenge." Virgil paused. "He'll never let me live this down, will he?"

Shayera ran her fork across the cooling piece of beef. 'Is Bruce right? Did I need Virgil…to make up for all I did to the world?' She looked at the young man, and suddenly he was much older…and wearing a familiar face. 'or was it to make up for what I did for John? A chance to show I wasn't a corruptor…that I could instill good in a person.' She smiled. 'Thank you Bruce.'

"Hey, Lord Shayera…" Virgil snapped, but with a smile. "You still with me?"

Shayera merely nodded. "yea…I'm with you all the way."

Author's Note; Before people tell me Shayera is out of character, I based this chapter on the Shayera in Hunter's Moon. I think the Lords' Shayera would be in the same place as Hunter's Moon's Shayera.


	4. Art of Peace, Art of War

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

Art of Peace, Art of War

It wouldn't be long now.

A few minutes, a few hours, a few seconds, his next breath. He didn't know when it would happen, but it would be soon now. His limbs were telling him that, the way he could barely lift them, get them to work. He'd never felt so heavy, even changing his density had never made him feel like this. He welcomed it, in a way, let it come. He called to it, to take away the sights of the past, the sounds, the smells, the touch. Taste was all he had left now, that acid-coppery taste of bile and blood mixed and shaken. His memories too, oh they were there, but it was another life, another time…so many lives gone, so many years…

It wouldn't be long now.

&&&

Earth was nothing like Mars.

That much was, of course, obvious. The Earth was green, the sky blue, which was nice but just strange. Green was the color of skin, not of the ground (even though the ground was technically brown with green grass) and the sky was supposed to be purple, because of the light reflected from the red soil.

And speaking of skin, the peachy pink flesh was just too disturbing for J'onn. It looked like someone had covered them with goo and let it harden. The hair was something J'onn didn't get either, along with clothing. Human were always trying to make themselves look good while hiding themselves…it was just strange and wrong.

There was a lot wrong with Earth.

Everyone was greedy, and selfish, and they only cared about themselves. They would rather cling to things they did not need then help someone in need. Basic things like medicine, food, and shelter cost money. When they mated, it wasn't forever…most of the time it wasn't for a few years. They even made a mockery of it, going to places like "Las Vegas" to join with the person they claimed they loved…

They were a backwards people, playing with weapons as if they were toys and never realizing just what they could do if they simply tried.

J'onn had struggled with all of this when he had come to Earth. He had seen the makings of a new Mars here…if only the humans learned how to behave.

When Superman had said that the Lords could no longer merely aid the humans through fighting crime…but by governing them, J'onn had smiled…a true smile…for the first time in ages.

&&&

His breath was coming out his wheezes. It was like trying to suck in a mouthful and only getting back a taste. Not enough…not enough. Every breath prolonged his life, every breath shortened it. Too much effort was needed to breathe, wasted too much oxygen. He used more then he got with the next breath, so every one was growing weaker…so much weaker.

He'd been spoiled on Earth…he remembering going there and getting dizzy from the oxygen levels. It had made his head feel fuzzy, weaken him and confused him. That's how they had caught him.

But h had grown use to it, and now…now he paid the price. For getting use to it…for all his crimes.

It wouldn't be long now.

&&&

Each of them had taken up their own ways of making the world a better place. Batman had began to install cameras and spy equipment everywhere, so that no one could plot evil deeds without them knowing. He also had guns permanently outlawed, and owning one was a 10 year sentence.

Superman had gone after every criminal, first just beating them, breaking their bones so they couldn't move. It wasn't until month 7 that he figured out to use his heat vision. John had ragged him for that for weeks. He'd also been the one to crack down on other heroes…something that would come back to haunt them only a few days ago.

Shayera and John had taken to rebuilding the police force, getting them to go from the corrupt, lazy units they'd once been to a crack policing force. The officers' job was to deal with citizens, and let the heroes do all the work.

Diana had begun education programs, to train children how to be good little citizens. The Arts, history, the evils of trying to take too much. The evils of being even slightly bad. How if you saw someone do something that might even possibly be bad, you should tattle, turn them in. It didn't matter if they hadn't done anything…most likely, they were going to someday…this just weeded out the really bad ones. She's also tried to sneak in teachings of the evil of men, how women should stand up and not let them rule them, admire women heroes, not men. When one little girl said that she liked the Flash, Diana had smacked her for worshipping a man.

Diana had been in a hospital bed for 2 months after they'd gotten done with her. J'onn had stood by and let Superman strangle her, threatening to crush every breath from her body if she ever insulted Wally's memory again. John and Shayera had been more clear: IF they ever saw her alone, she would die.

Diana had stayed on the station after that, and didn't do much of anything.

J'onn had taken over the planning of studies after that, and thus no longer had time to journey around Earth, helping those in need. His duties as commander of the WatchTower during the day, combined with planning out strict Martian-inspired lessons at night had forced him to stay inside, to work.

He had done all of this to try and make Earth better…to make it more like Mars. He had hoped that through his trials, people would rise up from the ooze and become better, more perfect people.

Like the Martians.

&&&

His hearing was the first to go, dying away and leaving him with only the sound of his labored breathing. Next, his vision grew cloudy, lights dancing around his eyes and the landscape changing.

He hadn't moved in hours…or maybe days. He didn't know when it was. All he knew was that he no longer had the will to try and move, to get up.

To live.

It wouldn't be long now.

&&&

Michael Jon Carter.

J'onn would never forget that name.

The hero. The showboat. The traveler. The thief. The traitor. Their savior.

Maybe the others didn't see it that way. Maybe the others saw him in a worse light. But for J'onn, he was the savior.

When they had returned, without their powers, they had gone back to Bruce's house, to try and regroup. Bruce had tied them up, raged against them. Clark and Diana tried to argue that they should figure out a way to get back their powers.

None of them had realized that the world wasn't what they thought it was. That for months now, a rebellion was growing. Led by the man from the future, the 25 year old that had seen the new era of peace and knew the history of the lords.

Michael Jon Carter. Supernova.

He'd bugged the house, with the aid of his partner, the new Blue Beetle. Jamie. Ted Kord was long dead, killed by Superman for speaking out against the Lords. But his works were taken by Supernova, who, had used his knowledge from the future to sneak into the mansion and bug it. Hearing that the Lords were weak, he'd had Jamie go up and get the Green Lantern's attention, told them of the crimes, that now they could act.

A perfect trade: Jamie was free to do as he wished on Earth, Supernova acting as his mentor. The new Green Lantern didn't have a problem with the young hero, and they ended up forming a little alliance.

Supernova had been the one to suggest what to do with J'onn.

He'd been the one to send him back to Mars.

It wouldn't be long now.

&&&

His heart was failing. He could feel his blood slowly, his muscles dying, his brain shutting down. His fingers had dug into the red soil of his beloved Mars, clinging to it like a baby to its mother.

He had disgraced its name. He had fought for peace…but only made war. His actions, placing Martian ideals on a foreign land, had only brought pain and suffering. Everything he had been taught as a child by his own father, he had used in vain…thrown away for his own twisted goals.

He had shamed Mars…and now, he would pay with his life.

As the last spark of thought drifted through his head, J'onn heard a voice, calling to him.

"J'onn…its time to come home…J'onn…its time to rest…."

J'onn closed his eyes.

&&&

High above him, Supernova watched as the last Martian's body went lax, the death rattle echoing silently across the planet.

"Goodbye J'onn…be at peace." Michael said, sprinkling some red soil over the corpse.


	5. Rebirth

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

Rebirth

"…these are just some of the crimes our sister has committed while banished from our island. She has endorsed the killing of not just men, but sisters and innocent children. She has destroyed property without reason, and done so at times will apparent glee. She has taken men to her bed, and used them not from furthering the Amazons, but for her own pleasure…and sometimes not even that.

"We may be able top forgive all this, and if we can not, we certainly can not pass judgment. She was exiled, and thus we can not convict her of crimes she committed while away. And we can not blame her for coming back to this island…blame lies with the Guardians that left her here.

"But there is yet something she can be tried for, a crime so disgusting, so vile, that it is the reason we are all here: Diana, Princess of the Amazons, has committed sacrilege. She has dared not only to ignore the gods, but to insult them, to act as them."

Wonder Woman lowered her head as the Amazon warrior laid out the charges to her mother and the host of gods that sat around them. Never before had so many been in one place, and all for one goal: Hera and Zeus were a united front; Ares and Athena both held their weapons, ready to attack the woman. Hermes shook his head, Apollo's gaze scornful as he read the truth from her mind.

Her mother sat on her throne, her eyes red from tears as she watched Diana tremble, the full weight of her crimes settling upon her.

Zeus nodded. "For all those here, state who you are."

Diana rose. "Diana, Princess of the Amazons, Wonder Woman."

Hera nodded. "And she that has brought these charged forth to us?"

"Donna, Princess of the Amazons, sister of Diana." Donna said, giving a hated glare at her elder sibling.

&&&

It is funny how the mind works, how it chooses to remember things. How it will place a certain sensation to a memory, to make it feel more real. Most saw through sight, but others saw through smells, or music, or touch. For Diana, she remembered through taste, for some strange reason.

She remembered sand when she thought of her first moments of life. It sounded like a fairy tale when her mother told it, of sculpting her from wet sand and asking the gods to help breath life into her.

What her mother failed to tell people was that Diana had awoken with a coughing fit, vomited up sand and screaming in pain. 'Like a baby' her mother had said 'crying for the first time.'

That was all well and good, but it still sucked. And later that night, when she's crapped out a few sea shells her mother had failed to remove from said sand…that hadn't been fun.

She remembered the taste of that first coffee, the one Flash had brought her. Sweet, energy-ridden, full of life. She always tasted coffee when she thought of him…it seemed so right.

She remembered the taste of what was almost burnt ham in the air when she'd found Luthor's dead body. A disgusting, horrid taste that made her insides shiver and he stomach clench.

She remembered the taste of tears when they'd found Wally's body, bullet riddled and bled out. Salty and hot. Strangely, that taste reminded her of Clark.

That…was a different story.

She remembered the taste of blood, coopery and sticky, sliding down her throat after a vicious hit from her doppelganger from another world. That was the horrible thing about blood, the aftertaste that seemed to always be with you, clinging to your throat.

She remembered the bile gurgling up from her throat when the Guardians had barged in, ensnaring them and passing judgment. She didn't know why the acidy taste had come then, whether it was caused by anger or by shame.

She remembered the taste of fresh tropical air when she had been dropped to the sands of Themiscyra. Sweet, pleasant, with a hint of something that was simply home.

She remembered the taste of blood again, when her sisters, seeing her marching towards the palace, demanding they help her regain her powers, tackled her, her beat, and threw her in prison.

She remembered all those tastes…and wondered for the first time why so many of them were bad.

&&&

Donna continued to speak, and Diana wondered if her little sister hadn't found some way to communicate with the outside world. How else would she learn how to speak like all those TV lawyers?

"Look at the facts, great gods. Diana violated her mother's command, and stole an item created not for her by the gods, to use for her own selfish means. She then dared to bring men back to Themiscyra, though, as we will all agree, that was within reason."

"Yes." Artemis said. "I remember well your prays for us to smite your mother for…what was it…foolish stupidity and a need to hold onto outdate laws?"

Donna had the decency to blush, but continued on. "Correct. I only mention it to show that we have given Diana chances in the past. Time and again, you have let her commit crime among crime against the gods and nature, and let her off easily." She whirled around. "Did she not interfere with godly matters before the death of the one named Wally West? What of Ares' war?"

The god of war nodded. "That is true. The princess decided to meddle in my affairs…something she had no right to do." 

Zeus sighed. "We are not here to argue these points."

"I understand." Donna said. "But we must realize just what Diana was like before, so you will see that this is not a sudden change, but her true persona: A power-mad woman that sees herself above the gods!"

"Donna!" Her mother shouted.

"I am not!" Diana cried.

"Silence!" Hera ordered. She turned to Queen Hippolyta. "You are not to speak again, and Diana, you may only speak when asked. Go on, Donna."

Donna nodded. "But let us look at her actions after the death of the one named Wally West. She willingly joined with other lower beings, calling themselves Lords and ruling over the planet." She held up a hand, silencing Ares, the war god seething that once again his father did not stand up for his rights. "Yes, it is all in her right to do so, if she did it as a queen. But Diana acted more as goddess, smiting her enemies and doing as she pleased.

"I heard more then once the commands given by you, the gods, for her to stop. For her to act a certain way. Instead, she merely continued on her own path, doing as she wished. She desecrated the armor made by Hephaestus, turning it into what you see now." Donna pointed to the ugly red jumpsuit. "Did she ask for the gods to allow her to do this? No. And I ask you, great gods…when is the last time she asked for your aid when using your gifts, as she should?"

Diana gulped. It was true…it had been atleast a year since she had prayed to the gods, asked them to lend her strength or speed or intelligence. She had merely done it on her own…above the gods and what they could give her.

"Gods of Olympus, she is my sister…but I can not defend her. I see her and I feel ill. She is a monster, that used what the gods and the amazons gave her for her own twisted, greedy ways. Punishment must be dealt, and dealt now!"

&&&

"Diana…may I come in."

Diana looked up from the straw mattress that had served as her bed for a week now and nodded, her mother entering the makeshift prison. Hippolyta had remained in her formal robes, and Diana could tell she had been crying again. That was all she seemed to do these last few days, ever since she had laid eyes on her daughter.

"Of course, mother." Diana whispered, moving over to give her mother space. The Queen sat down, and reaching out, began to stroke her child's hair. The hero known once as Wonder Woman closed her eyes, not wanting this moment to end.

"Why did you do it, Diana?" Hippolyta whispered. "Why?"

Diana let out a weak, bitter laugh. "I thought I could make Man's World better…thought I knew better. But I didn't…did I?"

"No." Her mother said.

"I just assumed I knew what to do…but they are different from us, they don't understand…"

"Diana." Her mother interrupted. "Have you still learned nothing?" She sighed softly. "This has nothing to do with Man's World. The gods are not mad because of that. They are mad because you tried to be something you were never meant to be. Maybe it is all our fault…we let you speak to them so freely, you forgot you are merely an Amazon, nothing more. You thought to grand things…and now…"

Diana shivered. "Have they decided?"

Her mother remained quiet.

"Mother…please…"

"Banishment."

Diana was silent. "To where?" She finally asked.

Hippolyta felt her tears building again. "Diana…you know that the gods are fickle, and easily change their mind. They will claim things, then decide something different…"

"Mother…I don't…"

"They have made a decision…to release Hades from Tartarus." At Diana's gasp, her mother gently rubbed her back. "They say he has learned his lesson…he will be restricted to Olympus, but he will be leaving that pit where they dropped him."

"But mother!" Diana exclaimed. "Who will guard Tartarus?"

Hippolyta looked at her daughter with wet eyes. "Where do you think you will be banished too?"

Diana leapt from the straw mattress, body trembling as she backed into a wall, shaking her head, trying to deny what she had heard.

"No…no…they…they can't…"

"They will…they have given me a few minutes to say goodbye."

Diana's face fell as she reached shaking hands to her mother. "Please…"

"I can not help you Diana…as my punishment for allowing you to act as you did, I will guard the gates for another 5000 years. That is how long you will rule Tartarus. The gods have said you wished for a kingdom, to be a goddess…they will make you so. The new 'goddess' of the dead."

"No…" Diana wailed. "Please mother…don't let them…" 

"I can do nothing for you, Diana. The gods have spoke. Donna will be the new Wonder Woman, and she will go to Man's World to fix your mistakes. But for you…payment must be made to the gods, and this is how they have chosen to collect it. 5000 years watching the demons…only then will you be returned to us."

Diana continued to cry even as Hermes entered the room, dragging the sobbing princess from her prison, readying her for her journey. She would receive weapons, and some power…but other then that, she would be on her own.

'5000 years, my darling.' Hippolyta thought. 'you do not realize what you now face. You will be broken down there, your sins burned, your mind wiped…all that I have taught you will be taken away.' Her body shook. 'And I will wait, 5000 years, until that faithful day comes. You were born of sand the first time, but now, you will be born like all children, with heat and pain. You will emerge from Tartarus a broken woman, wild and mindless, in need to teaching again. And I will teach you, Diana. 5000 years…those that helped you, the other Lords, will be long dust…and you will have forgotten them. You will be my baby, and I will raise you again…teach you again…and this time…the mistakes I made will not be repeated.' A tear ran down her cheek, sensing as the gates of Tartarus trapped her daughter. 'Till you are reborn, my precious daughter…till you are reborn.'


	6. Under the Kansas Sun

This is story made of six short stories, each focusing on a Lord. We will see new identities forged, old personas fall…and redemption that can only come from death. It will not always be happy, but in the end, each of them will find what they need.

The Father becomes the Son, The Son becomes the Father.

Under the Kansas Sun

The farm looked absolutely horrible.

Trudging up the driveway, foot occasionally catching in a hole and sending him stumbling, he could help but stare at what had happened to his childhood home. The grass was long and thick, folding onto itself. Weeds of all sorts and sizes filled the lawn, the kind his mother use to say were the sun's children, and his fathe ruse to say were annoyances.

The fields were in worse shape. Littered with rocks, overgrown with brush in spots, they were a far cry from the once lush, dense crop fields of his youth. It was yet anther said reminder of what he had lost, what he had destroyed in his stupidity.

The house that had once been filled with love was empty know, he knew that just by staring at its broken windows, chipped paint and caved-in roof. Shingles were strewn in his mother's flower garden, and the door lay in the driveway, burn marks all over it. He could see mud trailing into the house, no doubt from the animals that had taken residence in the home. The east side of the wall bulged outward, lumber cracked and broken. The result of his rage unleashed.

Now, there was no anger left. Instead, he was using the remaining strength he had from falling to his knees and crying.

'The poet was right.' Clark Kent, the man once known as Superman, thought, losing the battle to keep standing. 'you can't go home again.'

&&&

_18 Months Ago_

"What the hell were you thinking, Clark?"

Clark crossed his arms over his chest, giving Kara his best Superman stare. Was easy enough, considering he was in his Superman costume. His cousin was returning his glare with her own 'Kara-is-being-stubborn' glare.

"I was thinking that I needed to stop that car thief…"

"I had it covered, Clark!" Kara growled out. "I had stopped their vehicle, was getting ready to pull them out, then you toss me away! Sent me flying into a brick wall!"

Clark shook his head. "Kara, we've discussed this before: you are not allowed to go out without me or another Lord."

His cousin frowned. "Really…" Kara said with a scoff. "I don't remember discussing it. I remember you acting like a big jerk, telling me what I can and can't do, like I am some sort of child."

"You are a child." He snapped. "And you are going to do what I say?"

"You gonna make me, Clark?" Kara questioned. "I don't think your heat vision can lobotomize me."

He looked like he had been sucker-punched. "Kara…I would never…"

"Wouldn't you?" Kara questioned. "I don't know what you would do anymore! You and your new friends, the Justice Lords, have been running around like a bunch of goons, doing whatever you want and damn what anyone says." She shook her head. "And when your bored with that, you decided to rule my life."

"I'm doing it for your own good!" Clark said.

"Don't patronize me!" She screamed in frustration. By now, Martha and Jonathan Kent were looking out the door, wondering what was going on and hoping the neighbors wouldn't be drawn towards the noise. How would they explain two superheroes fighting on their lawn?

"Stop acting like a spoiled brat and I won't treat you like one!" Clark roared in frustration. "You keep pulling these damn stunts, doing what we shouldn't…and what are you wearing?"

Kara looked over her white shirt and mirco skirt. "My costume."

"No…I remember giving you your new costume." Clark said.

"You mean that black and white full body suit…a replica of that hidous thing you are wearing?" Kara snarked.

"First off, this thing shows way too much skin…you are just begging to be raped."

"I-AM-SUPERGIRL!" She roared, trying to beat it into his skull.

"And second, we don't wear those colors anymore."

"No, you don't." Kara snapped. "Because you are in mourning for The Flash…who would be so disappointed in you."

"Don't lecture me, Kara." Clark said. "You know…" He gave a bitter laugh, "Ever since you showed up, you have been nothing but a pain in my ass." He shook his head.

Kara's eyes widened. "What…do you wish I would have died along with everyone else?" Clark didn't say a word, and tears formed in her eyes. "That's it…isn't it?" She turned away.

"Kara…" Clark said pleadingly.

"I'm going to my room."

Clark frowned. It had been a long time since someone didn't ask how high when he said jump. "No, we aren't done talking."

Kara threw his hand off her shoulder. "Yea, we are…I don't talk to murderers." She lowered her head. "You're worse then Luthor."

She never saw the punch coming.

Supergirl's body soared through the air, like a fly ball, before crashing into the roof, body slamming into the second floor before breaking through to the first. His parents had already shut the door, rushing towards Kara, but Clark was faster Heat vision burned around his eyes, tearing apart anything that came into his way as he ripped his way into the house.

"Get out of the way, mom." Clark snarled, storming towards his cousin.

"Clark, calm down…"

"She's disrespected me for the last time!" He shouted, throwing a couch at the wall. "Its time someone taught her how to behave…" Jonathan Kent moved right infront of him.

"no son…this has gone on far enough."

Martha nodded. "First you killed Lex Luthor…then you and the Lords began acting like dictators…now you are tearing apart the house to beat down your own cousin?"

"We're not letting you continue, son." Jonathan added. "We won't let you do something you will regret."

"This is for her own good!" Clark shouted in frustration. "I know what is right, and she needs to begin listening to me!"

"We still aren't moving…" Martha said.

SMACK!

Clark hadn't realized what he was doing, and could only watch in horror as his hand moved on its own, striking his mother and sending her to the ground. He stared, slack-jawed, as she fell to the floor. Kara was on him, giving him a right hook that sent him across the room, before she trudged towards Martha.

Jonathan glared at his son. "Get out."

"Pa…" Clark whispered.

"No." He said. "You don't get to call me that. My son Clark is the only one that can call me Pa…and you sure aren't him, Superman." His eyes were as hard as diamonds.

Clark shook his head. "I'll be back in a few days, when you've calmed down." And with that, he flew off.

&&&

He hadn't seen his parents since. They'd disappeared, no trace of what had happened to them. He had searched, sure…but there had been no sign of his parents at all. Over the months, he had slowly forgotten about them, thinking they would wise up, see what he was doing was right, and come looking for him.

Now he understood. They would never look for him. It was easier to pretend your son was dead then think of him as the monster Clark had become.

He had finally stood up, bypassing the house entirely and making his way to the barn. As he searched through the tools, his mind went to a few days before, what had happened that had finally made him realize the error of his ways.

&&&

When Clark had lost his powers, he had blamed it all on the other Clark, the Superman that hadn't been willing to do what needed to be done to stop Luthor. He had raged at Bruce, but without his powers, he knew he was no match for the Dark Knight.

Then the Guardians had shown up, and he remembered sulking as they flew him to Metropolis, saying that they were going to leave him there. They'd warned him about contacting the Lords, but Clark didn't care. He only focused on his revenge, and how to get back to the other dimension and take out Lex Luthor and that apparently evil Superman.

Dropped off at his apartment, Clark had ignored the dust covering his furniture and the dead flowers. He had only kept the place incase he needed it, but had made his home at the Watchtower. And he would be back there soon enough. All he needed was some help.

He'd run up the fire escape, and begun calling out for Kara, knowing that his cousin would hear his cries. He had smiled, ready for the young girl to appear, happy to finally get some action. He'd been wrong to strike her, he knew that, but Kara would understand, accept his apology, and together they would make things right. He was sure that if he explained everything to her, Kara would be willing to find a way to give him her superpowers, so he could right the wrongs of the 2 worlds. She could help…but the world needed a Superman…

BAM!

Clark went skidding across the rooftop, blood gushing from his broken nose. With a groan he looked up at the face of his pissed off cousin.

Kara had definitely changed since he last saw her. She was almost as tall as him, her body lined with lean, tight muscles. Her hair was cropped short in a bob cut, still blonde as ever. She had also…developed more, and her new white costume showed off her ample cleavage, a hole in the center displaying her breasts for all.

"And you thought my old costume was bad." She snarled. She pointed at the hole. "There's another reason for that though…I was originally going to put the House of El shield on this costume, but after I heard about you Lords deciding to stop all democratic elections…well, I figured I shouldn't have any trace of you on my person."

"Kara…" Clark said softly, as if scolding a child, "Something has happened."

"Something has happened, alright! My freakin' prayers were answered." She was infront of him in an instant. "The mighty Superman has been beaten."

Clark glared at her. "Kara, I need your help…we were sent to another world…"

"I know." She interrupted. "Batman told me everything, warned me that you might show your face, trying some stupid plan to go after their Luthor. He also told me what you did there…how you almost killed that world's Flash…"

Clark closed his eyes. "He…he just wouldn't listen…"

"And that gave you the right to try and kill him?"

"He was evil!" Clark shouted.

"no, he just didn't agree with you!" Kara screamed, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head up. "You had the power, and decided that meant you were in charge."

"I know what is right!"

"Only God knows what is right. Are you a god, Clark?"

Clark didn't say a word for a long moment. "I am Superman…Superman always knows what is right."

"Not anymore." Kara said. "Now, I am the only super left…Power Girl, the last Kryptonian Hero. Does that mean my word is law?" Her eyes lit up. "Does that mean I can burn you to a crisp?"

"You wouldn't…"

"No." Kara admitted. "Because I'm not like you." She shook her head. "Batman told me what that other world's Batman said to make him see how stupid you all were…maybe it will make you snap out of it."

Clark still preferred to live in denial. It was easier then considering that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten things wrong.

"They'd love it here, wouldn't they?"

"Who?" Clark asked.

"Mom and Dad. Both of sets." She said. "You've brought fear, terror, dread…all the things they hoped you'd bring. You got rid of freedom…I'm sure they are proud about that. You've become the very monsters you fought…corrupt criminals that rule by their own opinion."

"I…I didn't…" Clark stammered. It had been a long time since someone had scolded him. Being Superman, he could easily shut someone up if they began to point out his faults. But now…as only Clark…

"Let me paint a picture for you Clark: Imagine a world where one man's word is law, if you disobey him, he shoots lasers out of his eyes to kill you, and there is no freedom, no choice, other then his." She made a dramatic bow. "All hail….Lord Darksied."

"No!" Clark shouted. "I'm…I'm nothing like him…I'm…" He held his head in his hands.

"Yea Clark…you and Darksied are just peas in a pod." She shook her head. "The Guardians came to see me…said that since this isn't your homeworld, they had considered sending your back to the remains of Krypton." Clark trembled. "Yea…instant death for you. They let it be my choice."

"Kara…"

"You can be a good person Clark, when you want to be." Kara whispered. "You only lost the light to show you the way. It is for this reason alone, your capacity for good…that I will not send you away, my only family." Her face grew cold. "But I never want to see you again. And I won't let you see Ma or Pa again either."

"Please…" He begged.

"I told them you were dead." Kara said, dropping the proverbial hammer. "When the Guardian left, I told them that you'd been killed, reforming at the last minute and sacrificing yourself to stop the other Lords. Better for them to think their son died a hero then is a worthless slug, begging me to help him get his revenge." She grabbed him by the shirt, and in the next moment, Clark found himself outside the city limits. "Metropolis doesn't want you, Clark…they have a new hero. Go…and don't come back."

&&&

Hoe in hand, Clark grunted as he began to hack at the weeds the filled the Kent Family Farm. He had wandered the country for a few days, hitching rides until he had made it to Smallville. It had been a bitter pill, listening to the radio as reporters cheered his apparent disappearance. He heard the new heroes Supernova and Blue Beetle proclaim they would be working with the government to right the wrongs of the Justice Lords, and would set up a system to insure this never happened again. Public opinion was on their side, especially when the new Green Lantern, Power Girl, Huntress and The Question all came forward in days to be registered as crimefighters. Power Girl even went as far as the join the Metropolis police force, answering to the sergeant and acting as a rookie cop.

More heroes stepped forward, long in hiding, and cheered his defeat. People he had thought of as friends celebrated his death. He remembered seeing the new versions of the Star Wars movies, and the end scene in Return of the Jedi, when everyone celebrates the death of the emperor…he mourned that his legacy would only be that: A fallen dictator.

Infact, when he had arrived in Smallville to find them in the midst of a "Fall of Superman" festival, he had been ready to find an alley and slit his wrists right then.

But that's when she said hello.

&&&

"Clark Kent!"

Clark turned, eyes still wet from watching children burning scarecrows in his image, to see an unlikely sight.

"Lana…"

Lana Lang shook her head…and punched him in the shoulder.

"OW!" he whined.

Lana grinned. "Oh, knock it off. You deserve as much for being such an idiot."

Clark sighed. "You come to take a pound of flesh from me too?"

She shook her head. "No. Just come to see if you've finally woken up."

Clark rubbed his face with his meaty hand. "If you mean, "See if I've stopped acting like a bastard", then yea. Losing your powers and having your family disown you will do that."

"What did you expect to happen Clark?" Lana asked. "You went all insane on us…"

Clark groaned. "I just wanted to make the world better…"

"So dressing up in black and white tights and acting like a jerk was your way of making a better world?" Lana questioned. "Geez…thought you were smarter then that."

"Leave me alone, Lana."

"Hey, hey…" Lana said, drawing him back towards her. "I know this must be tough. You only did what you thought was right…and now you find out everything was wrong. But being a big moopey idiot won't help fix it." She stroked his cheek. "Yea, people hate you right now. But they will get over it. Give them time, and soon people will remember the old Superman, the one they use to stand out in the rain and cheer for…and they'll forgive you."

"I don't know if they'll ever forgive me." Clark murmured. "God…how did I screw things up so bad?"

Lana gave him a teasing grin. "By thinking you were something you're not." She watched as a parade float went by, turning Clark away from the flower-made structures that depicted Optimus Prime holding Superman while Megatron punched him in the gut. 'Nice use of roses for the blood being spat from his mouth, though' She thought. "I don't know what it is about you, Clark, but for some reason you think you have to do all these grand things to help people. You don't. You want to make the world a better place? Make up for your sins? Do something small…something that needs to be done." She shrugged. "And pray that everything works out."

&&&

As Clark continued to work the field, his mind turned to the future. He would begin work on the house tonight, as well as buy some gas for the tractors so he could plow the fields. He would cut the grass, fix the door, get the roof back in place, and begin planting seeds.

His father had once told him that without the farmer, nothing could survive. It was time to put that theory to the test. As he worked under the hot Kansas sun, all Clark Kent could do was hope.

For in the end, that was all that mattered.

The End

Author's note: Remember, in the DC Animated Universe, Lana knows Clark is Superman.

Thank you all very much for reading. It has been one hell of a ride, and it has been great to write out these stories for you all.

As for my next short fic, I'm not sure what I will do. Here are some possible ideas, let me know what you think:

-J'onn and Mike's Bogus Adventure: When J'onn left in the final season to learn more about mankind, he turns to the only person he ever read wrong: Booster Gold. In the crossover to end all crossovers, the Martian Manhunter and the Man from the Future will learn that cars can become robots, that hippies don't make the best detectives, that New Jersey isn't all it's cracked up to be, that Karma is a funny thing, and that there are some islands that you just don't want to travel to. And maybe, just maybe, the meaning of life.

That's a big maybe, though.

(this is the one I am leaning towards)

-Justice League Beyond: After seeing what Bruce was able to do, the rest of the League decide to begin training their own replacements. See what happens when Flash, Booster, Question and Green Arrow begin to train their new apprentices.

-Smallville: Boost: Taking place during the current season. When Chloe drags Clark to the opening of the new Metropolis Science Museum, they never expected to see a young man appear outof thin air. Michael Carter, his memory gone, struggles to discover why he has come to the past. But when LexCorp is invaded, Michael will join with the boy that would be SUperman...and a new hero is born.

I will say that I do know in July I will stop doing DCU fics so I might write the fan fic "Confidence Bot". Taking place in the Transformers Movieverse, it follows Doubledealer. Dd is a transformer that doesn't believe in the Autobots of the Decepticons…instead, all he cares about is making so cash. In this reimagining of this G1 character, Dealer travels to Earth (after stealing a ship) to take advantage of the Great War and make a nice profit.


End file.
